onism
by dansesinfernale
Summary: Kenma finds out that he has less than half a year left to live, so he's determined to make the most of the time left— to create the perfect summer. otherwise known as, the terminal illness fic no one in this fandom asked for. — a slow burn romance, and probably more angst here than my whole life contains. consider yourself duly warned.


"I'm afraid that the test results showed us some rather… alarming results that we were quite worried about." the doctor said in a carefully measured tone. "We ran the tests several times, but they showed the exact same thing every time."

Kenma looked at the floor, hardly daring to look up. Usually this was his cue to pick up his gaming device, and pretend that reality wasn't moving around him, creating repercussions that were all too real. This time, he had nowhere to seek solace.

"We estimate that you have perhaps only six months left to live. If however, we are able to find a suitable donor in time and the chemotherapy works, there may be a more optimistic outcome."

He hated this. The doctors who could say these things so calmly as if a person's life wasn't in the balance. Everything was so methodical, so matter of fact that he cringed inwardly just thinking of it.

Somewhere in the background, he heard his mother crying, and he imagined the gentle sobs racking her entire body, his father holding her close to him. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was his mother crying. It left him with such a guilty feeling— although he knew that he hadn't done anything wrong, there was always a lingering sensation that he had been the one to make he cry. It was the same thing for this situation. It wasn't his fault that his body had chosen to malfunction, thus producing abnormal white blood cells, but on the other hand, it sort of was. If he had seen the symptoms earlier and asked to be taken to a doctor instead of ignoring it like he did everything else, perhaps, just perhaps this might have been avoided.

"This depends, of course, if you will want to undergo the chemotherapy." the doctor tapped his clipboard uneasily, noticing the thick tension in the air. "Since you're at such a late stage, it will be harder to undergo. We would suggest that you think about it before coming to a decision. These pamphlets will tell you all you need to know about the procedure and if you have any other questions, we will only be too happy to answer them for you."

He pushed the glossy pages over the table, but Kenma ignored them, preferring to focus on his own hands instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father pick up the pamphlets and store them in his jacket pocket.

"Thank you." he heard his father say, pressing a gentle hand on Kenma's back— the signal for them to finally leave.

 _Six more months_ , he thought. _I can't say I'm going to miss this life very much_.

* * *

 _Hop, skip, jump._

Kuroo watched as the two children across the street played hopscotch, laughing with the sort of childish mirth that he found himself strangely missing.

He checked his phone again for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past two hours, and sighed as nothing came up except for yet more spam from the group volleyball chat. It was strange that Kenma hadn't replied yet, given that he usually replied (out of frustration) after Kuroo sent him 10 messages in a row.

He tossed the volleyball up to the blue summer sky again, catching and throwing it in a steady rhythm, wondering idly what his father was going to cook for dinner.

"Onii-san!" he heard the children opposite call out. "Can you help us turn the skipping rope?"

He rolled his eyes, wondering what the Karasuno team would say if they saw him, a confirmed badass, turning jump rope for kids. It was probably something Lev would have done, instead of him, but he got up and sauntered across the street to help them anyway.

"Thanks so much!" the two kids chorused, and the jump rope twirled and spun.

The gravel crunched underneath car wheels, and Kuroo saw Kenma's family car pull into the driveway next to his, and he waved to Kenma's parents, who didn't seem to see him.

"Sorry, kids. I've gotta go meet up with my friend over there." he apologised, giving back the end of the skipping rope and patting the two kids on the head. He jogged over to the Kenmas' house, just as they were getting out of the car.

"Hello, Mrs Kenma, Mr Kenma." he called out politely. Kenma's mother merely looked over, red-eyed. He took a step back, slightly alarmed. "Uh… Is everything alright?"

"Of course we're fine. Sayuri is just having a bad case of hay fever." Kenma's father replied, smiling in a rather forced way at Kuroo. "We've just gotten back from the hospital after visiting a friend of ours, and the flowers there aggravated her nose somewhat."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you get better soon. Would you mind if Kenma and I went out for some ice-cream?" Kuroo asked smoothly.

"Sure, sure. Don't spoil your appetites, though!" Kenma's father said, with a smile that seemed too strained to be real. The parents disappeared into the house, and he was left alone with Kenma, who had already pulled out his PSP, and was tapping away furiously.

"Come on, let's go." Kuroo said, and they started the walk down to the local ice-cream parlour in relative silence.

"Double scoop with mint chocolate chip and strawberry for him, and one double fudge sundae for me, thank you." Kuroo smiled winningly at the ice-cream vendor, holding out some cash.

Kenma didn't bother to look up from his game, but he did pause it in order to hold the ice-cream and lick it slowly, deep in thought.

They walked over to the umbrella-shaded seats next to the road and ate their ice cream in silence, watching the cars zoom by and the busy metropolis of Tokyo go about their daily business.

"What's wrong?" Kuroo asked abruptly. "You've been acting strangely today.

"Nothing." Kenma replied, equally as abruptly.

"Too quick. Now, what's bothering you?"

Kenma sighed, biting down on the soggy ice-cream cone. Kuroo would never drop the subject if he didn't say what was wrong, so he had better give an answer that was plausible and within the realms of belief.

"I've been thinking about my summer plans."

"Pffft. Summer plans?" Kuroo snorted. "When have you ever planned something for summer besides playing games and sleeping?"

"Well, is it so strange that I actually want to do something different this time?" Kenma retorted. "Anyway, I still plan on playing games. I just want to do something fun for a change."

He honestly wasn't sure if he wanted Kuroo to know about his condition just yet— they were close friends, but knowing Kuroo, the captain would then go into over-protective mode, which was the last thing that Kenma wanted. He just needed a quiet, low-key summer that he could look back upon as full of not-regrets.

"Well, then you've made some very powerful friends, Kenma." Kuroo leaned back in his chair and smirked, licking the fudge off of his spoon.

"Powerful friends?" Kenma scoffed. "More like embarrassing friends. I wish you would stop winking at the ice-cream seller, he's beginning to look very uncomfortable."

"Friends that can help this be your most memorable summer yet, then." Kuroo amended. "Or well, just me."

"Well, it would be more troublesome trying to keep you away, so I guess I'll have to bear with it." Kenma said, a hint of a smile playing around his lips.

"Well then, Kenma. I have undertaken you as my charity case. I'm going to make sure you have the best summer of your life." Kuroo declared, before accidentally splattering himself with a slightly too exuberant wave of his spoon. "… Please pretend you never saw that."


End file.
